


i'll make a cup of coffee for your head

by lattely (orphan_account)



Series: ri's quarantine productions [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oh no they were quarantined, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, TikTok, if you're not gen z and/or a tiktok connoisseur none of this will make sense to you, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lattely
Summary: Bucky’s been cooped up inside for nine days now, and is slowly but surely developing cabin fever. So he resorts to what any resolute twenty-year-old would when at an absolute impasse - he opens TikTok.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: ri's quarantine productions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759390
Comments: 38
Kudos: 279





	i'll make a cup of coffee for your head

**Author's Note:**

> LISTEN. everything sucks right now, so i wrote this in one sitting because i'm in nation-wide quarantine and i do exactly what bucky does in this fic, which is half-ass online classes and lose hours on tiktok, and i needed an outlet. [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivOyrUSnPPY) is pretty much what the fic entails.
> 
> this is dedicated to my friend eden who hates marvel, but who made fun of me for making tiktok thirst traps to occupy myself. wait until you've been locked up inside for two weeks, then i'll laugh.
> 
> the title is, appropriately, from _death bed_ by powfu and beabadoobee. this is not betaed; any and all mistakes are my own!

Let the record state that Bucky fucking hates this.

He’s been cooped up inside for nine days now, and is slowly but surely developing cabin fever. He’d go grocery shopping, anything to step out of the confines of the 50-square-meter apartment, except Steve went yesterday, donning a disposable sanitary mask forced onto him by Bucky, because the guy might be six-feet-two of pure muscle nowadays, but he still catches the flu like an underdressed child on a crowded playground.

Bucky’s done virtually everything there was to do in the house. He’s tidied up his cluttered bedroom desk, he’s baked cookies (choc chip, a little overdone, but he’ll get them perfect next time), he’s even gone so far as to file his fucking nails and paint them with the black polish he bought from the CVS clearance bin last month, back before everything went to shit. Back before they closed all schools until fucking September and Bucky could still leave the house when he very well wished to, if only for a Tissue Engineering lecture.

These days, he has to sit through _online classes_ , hair combed over and pretending he isn’t still in his pyjamas from the waist down, trying not to give himself apoplexy over the desperate huffing and puffing of his laptop put under the heavy duress of a twenty-person conference.

He’s at the end of his rope, here. He’s zipped through what seems like the entirety of YouTube in the past week, and finished all of his ‘recently played’ on Netflix, except for _Ocean’s 11_ he started yesterday and decided fifteen minutes in he had no interest in watching anymore. He’s played rummy with Steve at the kitchen table, for God’s sake. So he resorts to what any resolute twenty-year-old would when at an absolute impasse - he opens fucking TikTok, of all things, and immerses himself in the shame of scrolling through his ‘for you’ page, sprawled out on the couch with Steve puttering away in the kitchen.

Now, Bucky downloaded the godawful app because he was shamelessly _blackmailed_ into it by Clint Barton, a self-proclaimed TikTok addict, and as much as Bucky loathes to admit it, he promptly became one himself. He tried to limit his intake to below forty minutes a day, he did, but all that crumbled in the face of a fucking global pandemic-induced government quarantine. So now he spends upwards of two hours watching stupid little videos on his phone until it grows scalding in his hands, because not only is TikTok immersive as hell, it also devours battery percentage like a ravenous Central Park pigeon.

At least he doesn’t _post_ his attempts at throwing it back. It’s all neatly set to private, tucked away from the prying eyes of Romanoff, who’s tried to coerce Bucky into performing a viral routine to _Candy_ for her own, annoyingly popular account. He’ll dance away to Doja Cat in the privacy of his own bathroom, thank you very much.

It’s an hour and a downward spiral into a particular TikTok trend later that Bucky resurfaces, his phone predictably hot in his palm. He usually strays far from cutesy, happy couple numbers littering his FYP like weeds, but now, when he’s trapped indoors for the foreseeable future, his brain is going haywire. Which is why he spent the last near-sixty minutes browsing clips with the same exact premise, thumb hovering over the little heart but never actually clicking it.

Fucking ‘shooting your shot with your best friend-turned-crush’ videos.

Bucky gulps, stealing a glance at Steve, who’s now curled up at the opposite end of the couch, laptop perched on his drawn-up knees.

See, Bucky met Steve when their age could still be put down in single digits, and hasn’t left his side since. But, thing is, somewhere along the road, between them scoring their respective first kisses and graduating junior year of high school, Feelings wormed their pesky way in. Feelings with a capital ‘F’, because since Bucky first looked at Steve with the pernicious thought of, _Fuck, he’s hot_ , he’s gone and developed not just a crush, but also fallen in full-fledged love.

Fucking _oops_ , as they say.

Sure, he’s dated around, slept in a good handful of beds, but following the calamitous realisation of the sheer gravity of his Feelings for Steve a year ago, incidentally around the time they moved in together, his desire to put himself out there wilted to a browned stalk.

So, fuck him, but the thought of finally trying his luck puts a buzzing crackle in Bucky’s gut, part-exhilarated, part-petrified. He’s more than aware that this is absolutely the worst possible time to do this if Steve doesn’t reciprocate Bucky’s sentiments, when they’re in forced lockdown for God-only-knows how much longer. There’s always the handy option, though, of going out, licking some door knobs, contracting the pain in the ass that’s keeping them all hostage, and dying in the isolation ward.

He’s kidding.

Sort of.

Filled to the nostrils with the dizzying feeling of mortifying excitement, he sets to rigging up a sequence made up of the short snippets he’s gathered of Steve over the years, set to the melancholic lo-fi beat that accompanies every video that falls under the trend Bucky, at his wits’ end, is submitting to.

Even if he never follows through with the key feature, he comforts himself half-heartedly, he’ll still have an accessible, compact compilation of Steve’s best, most endearing moments to torture himself with. _Hey, look, here’s what you can’t have._

In less than no time, though, the collage is ready and all that’s left for Bucky to do is...

Kiss Steve.

Jesus _fuck._

He drags in a deep breath that shakes more than he would’ve liked on its way in. He exhales slowly, willing his racing heart to calm down.

He doesn’t _have_ to do it.

He’s gonna fucking do it.

Before he can further contemplate what the fuck he’s getting himself into, he rises to his feet and crosses the small living room, arranging his phone on the conveniently-located TV stand. It takes no small amount of effort, with how much his hands are trembling. Drawing in another long breath, he sets off the ten-second timer, and moves to join Steve on his end of the couch.

His heart is beating so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if Steve could hear it.

Steve turns his head towards Bucky, looking at him expectantly.

His eyes are so fucking blue.

“What’s up, Buck?” he says, curiosity evident in his voice, and, throwing all caution to the wind, knowing that his ten seconds of safety have passed, Bucky leans in, his lips meeting Steve’s.

For a terrifying moment, Steve is absolutely, completely still, frozen in place under Bucky’s touch, and Bucky makes to pull back, horrified he’s ruined nearly fifteen years of friendship, ready to drown Steve in frantic apologies, but then… Then Steve releases a small sound into Bucky’s mouth as his arms come to wrap around Bucky’s waist, tugging Bucky impossibly closer into his warmth, and he kisses back.

Steve’s lips are plush, tasting vaguely of apples and black tea, and Bucky’s heart is fucking _soaring._ Everything in him is singing, rippling, because Steve is kissing him, and it feels so good, and he’s wanted it for so long, and _Steve is kissing him,_ his tongue darting out shyly to curl into Bucky’s mouth, big hands rubbing circles into Bucky’s back.

After what feels like minutes and years all at once, Steve pulls back with a soft smacking sound Bucky will remember forever, his hands still firmly on Bucky’s sides.

“What was that for?” he murmurs, stroking Bucky’s hip bones with his thumbs through the thin fabric of Bucky’s t-shirt. Bucky feels so full, so warm, as if he’s filled with honey and liquid sunlight to the very tips of his fingers, and the thought is so fucking cheesy but he doesn’t _care,_ because Steve _kissed him back._

“Because I love you, you jackass,” Bucky says, matching Steve’s hushed tones. Steve laughs, quiet and fond, the sound vibrating through Bucky’s palms where they’re planted on Steve’s broad chest.

“I love you, too, Buck,” he says, and presses a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “I hope TikTok enjoys the show.”

Bucky groans, dropping his forehead onto Steve’s shoulder. Was he really that unsubtle? “Oh my God, shut _up_.”

He has to work on his subterfuge skills.

“Never,” Steve grins, eyes crinkling up at the corners, and pulls Bucky on top of him. And if that’s how the rest of quarantine is going to go, well. Maybe Bucky can withstand it.


End file.
